


Asset Recovery

by forthegreatergood



Series: Triple Threat [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegreatergood/pseuds/forthegreatergood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhodey finds his prayers answered after an explosion in the desert.</p><hr/><p>There’s a moment when James blanks, because he’s not entirely sure he’s seeing what he’s seeing, or if he’s only seeing what he so desperately wants to see.  Then his mouth is forming words, and he hears, “How was the fun-vee?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All characters property of Marvel.
> 
> Not beta-read. Please post any noticed errors in the comments, and they'll get fixed.

There’s a moment when James blanks, because he’s not entirely sure he’s seeing what he’s seeing, or if he’s only seeing what he so desperately wants to see. Then his mouth is forming words, and he hears, “How was the fun-vee?”

It’s his voice, and it sounds _normal_ , and he can’t quite believe it. Tony’s smile makes his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t admit until right now that he might not see it again, and now he’s seeing it, and he’s absolutely _sure_ he’s seeing it. He puts his hand on Tony’s good shoulder, and holy hell, is Tony’s other shoulder a mess.

“Next time you ride with me, okay?”

It’s as near as James can get to acknowledging what the last three months have been like for him, and when Tony closes his eyes and folds against him, he discovers that now is when he can start really worrying what the last three months have been like for Tony. Between the shape he’s in and the massive explosion that brought them back into this area, James isn’t sure what questions to start with, so he keeps his mouth shut and shoves canteen after canteen at Tony while the medic works on getting his obvious wounds cleaned and bandaged. Once they’ve bundled him into the helicopter and lifted off, there’s too much noise to talk, but Tony’s deathgrip on his arm speaks volumes. James would be returning it, if he weren’t so worried about Tony’s injuries. He keeps his grip on Tony’s good shoulder light and constant, trying to steady him.

The rest of the day is a blur. James spits out the same report to anyone who asks without ever straying more than ten feet from Tony’s side, which no one bothers questioning. The best medical personnel available on-site get Tony cleaned up and pronounce him fit for travel and issue a strong recommendation for an immediate consult with as many specialists as will see him once he’s back stateside. They also frown when Tony adamantly refuses the painkillers on offer, accepting nothing stronger than Tylenol-3s. The youngest--a pretty woman with hazel eyes and a head of fluffy spitcurls who offered to ‘keep him company’ one weekend last month and was extremely gracious about it when he declined--makes a face behind Tony’s back and shoots James a glare that makes it clear that he’s on the hook for keeping Tony compliant with their orders. She’s the only one who seems to have picked up on him being more than just Tony’s handler, but the others don’t object when she shoves hardcopies of their findings, a thumbdrive with Tony’s x-rays, and three bottles of Tony’s pills into James’s hands.

James gets the same look from one of the military intelligence guys after the fifth time Tony mutters “I don’t know” in response to their questions. The short brunette seems perfectly happy to keep asking the same questions in slightly different ways and the same neutral tone of voice until their deployment’s up, “I don’t know”s be damned. Her partner’s getting increasingly edgy, and he keeps shuffling the satellite photos of the burned-out hostile base like he’s going to find an ace in the deck. When James takes the opportunity to ask if Stark Industries--ie, Obadiah and Pepper--has been notified, the man seizes the chance to cut the interview short. He hands over the shots and stiffly requests that James forward a report of anything Tony recalls as soon as he recalls it. The brunette adds that they’ll see to it that Stark Industries has the relevant details and inbound itinerary.

As soon as they’re alone, Tony’s got him by the collar and is shoving his mouth against James’s so hard that James can taste blood from the split in Tony’s lip. He’s careful when he wraps his arms around Tony’s waist and holds him close; careful not to jostle his shoulder, careful not to press too hard against any of the contusions, careful not to pull any of the stitched lacerations. Most especially, he’s careful of that glowing _thing_ sitting on Tony’s chest, sunk so far down into it that he couldn’t believe the x-ray when he saw it. He still can’t quite believe it, but the idea of putting pressure on it terrifies him through the unrealness. He digs his hands into Tony’s back while Tony kisses him like he means to drain him and tries to get a tighter grip on him.

“Can we just...can we lock that door? Will they give us a few minutes, here?” Tony asks around kissing him.

“Not really,” James tells him, “but I can keep everybody off your back.”

He knows he’s being stupid. Getting busted like this could end his career, or at least cost him every last shred of professional credibility. And there’s a tiny voice in the back of his head nagging at him that he’s doing wrong by Pepper, even if it’s not quite clear on exactly how. There’s an even louder voice telling him that he doesn’t know what Tony’s been through, that letting something happen now, like this, could cost them both in ways he can’t imagine. 

James finds it easier to ignore it all when Tony bites his neck through his uniform and says, “Please.”

He can count the number of times he’s heard Tony Stark say ‘please’ on the fingers of one hand.

Tony’s not critical, so they’ve got a slot on the next scheduled transport out with an ETD of oh-six-hundred local time. James points Tony at the cot and goes to secure an extra chair; he gives out that Tony’s finally crashed, and that he’s going to keep an eye on him. No one questions that, either, probably because it’s generally understood that it’s going to be his ass in a sling if Mr. Stark so much as gets a hangnail now that he’s in military custody.

The door’s barely closed again when Tony starts trying to unbutton his shirt one-handed and making little frustrated noises when it doesn’t work. James guides him to the cot and sits him down, and Tony curls around him when James kneels in front of him. It’s as good as they’re going to get right now, and he just holds Tony for a few minutes like it’s enough to blot out the last hopeless month. James figures any interruptions will happen sooner rather than later; the doctors won’t want to wake Tony unless someone twigs to something serious that they missed earlier. He’s been through a lot, and he needs more sleep than he’s going to get here no matter what.

James is still holding him when Tony starts chuckling, and he pulls back a little to look at him. His face is sunburned, and he’s got a butterfly bandage he probably doesn’t need on his cheek, and there’s a crazed look in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t it just be a complete kick in the ass if this were all a hallucination?” he asks, his shoulders shaking. “I mean, what’s got the better odds? Me being lost in the desert still, seeing shit from massive dehydration or head trauma, or you being the first guy out of the rescue choppers? Or maybe I never made it out of that fucking cave. Maybe this is me running a 105-degree fever from an untreated systemic infection.”

James shakes his head sharply and kisses him gently. “It’s got nothing to do with odds, Tony. I’ve been looking for you, and that depot got blown to hell. I swear, they could see that fireball from space. We’d have been doing fly-bys no matter what, and you didn’t make it that far before we found you. This is real. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“You’ve been looking for me, huh? Day-trips from Cali, or what?”

“I put in for a transfer, asshole,” he explains affectionately. “Came through in record time.”

“Guys in development couldn’t wait to get rid of you, huh? I told you that was going to happen if you kept stealing that dick Allen’s parking space.” 

“And I told you, I outrank that son of a bitch.”

Tony’s arm tightens around him suddenly. “You’re coming with me though, right? You’re gonna be on that plane out of here.”

“I’ve got orders to accompany you back to California, yeah. I’m with you the whole way.” 

James isn’t sure about what happens after that. Honestly weighed, he’s a better pilot than he is a babysitter. And he can’t imagine a scenario that doesn’t involve Tony spending the next month in and out of the hospital to get a handle on the long-term health ramifications of having a goddamned coffee can shoved halfway through his ribcage. It’s possible James will be flying right back out once Tony’s handed off to the EMTs for medical transport. It’s possible someone else will be taking over as liaison. Tony doesn’t need to hear that right now, though, so he doesn’t say it.

“It’s really been three months.”

“Yeah. It’s really been three months.” James rubs the small of his back, and Tony leans against him again and closes his eyes.

“You think I can talk Pepper into coming back?” he asks, like he’s running numbers in his head. “She’s probably still in her probationary period wherever she signed on with, right? She can’t possibly like them more than me yet.”

“Hey, now.” James laughs quietly. “Pepper’s right where she was when you left, running your life and making it look easy. She’s got everything right there waiting for you. She’s still got your back.”

“And the company?” Tony demands. “Shit, and JARVIS? Nobody’s turned JARVIS off, right? And somebody’s been by to water my plants? And clean out the fridge? Please tell me somebody remembered to take out the trash, because that could be really disgusting by now.”

James smooths Tony’s hair back. “The company’s fine. Stane’s been handling everything. Nobody even knows how to turn JARVIS off, so I’m pretty sure he’s safe. And I’m gonna have to assume that whoever kept your place livable before is still doing it, because we both know it wasn’t you.” He kisses Tony’s forehead. “Everything’s just how you left it, Tony. Everybody pulled together for you. You’re going to be in good hands once you get home.”

“Speaking of being in good hands…” Tony smirks at him and tilts his head, his face lighting up with that grin that’s been haunting James’s wet dreams since this nightmare started.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony wants to close his eyes when James unzips him, wants to just relax into it and lose himself in it when James runs his tongue along his cock, wants to scream a little when James takes his whole length in one go and swallows around him. The last time he felt this good seems like a hallucination, it’s so buried under the hell he’s been living and breathing. But the last time he had eyes on James, he was on top of a personnel carrier with shit for armor and absolutely no cover, and he was making an even bigger target of himself by manning the gun, and Tony can’t close his eyes and go with this any more than he can pry his fingers off James’s head or unwind his leg from around James’s back.

He’s seen how easy men and women just like James can die doing exactly what James was just doing, and he can’t get Yinsen’s too-pale, too-still face out of his mind, and he needs to know that James is still with him.

When James lets up to draw a breath, it’s almost enough to make him come. He doesn’t care that he has to be his dirty little secret, and he doesn’t care that he’s not sure where his interest in Tony ends and his interest in Tony’s inventions begins, and he doesn’t care, strictly speaking, that this might all still be his brain malfunctioning thanks to god knows what trauma. It _feels_ real, and he’ll take it. James’s tongue teases his glans again. James’s hair is familiar under his fingers. Everything hurts about like he’d expect it to after that last Hail Mary left him staggering around half-scorched and half-skinned but _free_ , finally fucking _free_. He barely manages to bite back a whimper when James’s fingers dig into his back and his cock slides down James’s throat.

The pain fades a little as his nerves light up, and the orgasm barely registers, stacked as it is against the bone-deep fatigue that’s suddenly rolling over him. James catches him when he wobbles a little, and then he’s guiding him down onto the cot and rolling his legs up over the support and tucking a pillow under his head. When the thin blanket settles over him and James cups his face, telling him he’s safe, Tony thinks that maybe if this is a fever dream, he might be okay with not waking up.

He barely manages to grab James’s hand and slur, “Stay with me, Rhodey.”

“I’m right here, Tony.”

“Just stay,” he mutters, or thinks he mutters. He’s not sure he actually gets his voice behind it before he slips into the first real rest he’s gotten in what feels like years, one of James’s hands clutched in his own and the other gently tangled in his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

James watches the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest and lets himself feel a tiny sliver of relief. He has no idea how this is going to shake out. He’s never seen Tony ricochet from flirting to utter, desperate _need_ like that. He can tell just by looking at him that Tony’s been through ten kinds of hell since the convoy was ambushed, and that sort of treatment’s broken men far better prepared for it than Tony. But for the time being, at least, Tony’s sleeping peacefully. He’s not out of the woods yet, but they’ll be back stateside soon. Pepper will be in charge of coordinating his medical team, and Tony will have an AI capable of running the planet keeping tabs on his condition and compliance. If Stane’s kept things rolling along smoothly this long with Tony’s fate unknown, he can keep it up a little longer with Tony back and recuperating. Assuming James gets transferred back, all he has to do is put a cheery gloss on any progress reports for the upper echelons until Tony’s back on his feet. This doesn’t have to cost Tony any more than it already has.

He brushes Tony’s hair back from his forehead. Three months. It’s been three months since he’s been able to do this. Three months since Tony’s been safe.

James glances at the stack of pictures the intelligence people left behind, and he hopes to hell that Tony remembers something or managed to see something. The installation where he was being held is a smoldering cinder under a pile of rubble, yeah, but he’s willing to bet the bastards in charge of it weren’t there when it went up. He wants to see that intel in the hands of people who can make them bleed for this. Tony was the only one missing after the smoke had cleared. Everyone else had gone down as KIA, and it had been a long list. They’ve got a lot to pay for. 

The hostile casualties had given them nothing; half of them had been complete unknowns from a dozen different global hotspots, and half of them had been affiliated with a complete grab-bag of organizations. So far as he ever heard, the investigation had been a dead-end. They’d basically just picked the suspect they’d liked the least, launched a few drone-strikes, and called it a closed case.

Tony stirs in his sleep a little, grabbing his hand hard and whimpering. James strokes his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and shushes him quietly.

“It’s okay, Tony. You’re safe. We’re going home. You’re okay,” he soothes, trying not to wake him fully.

Tony subsides after a minute, and his grip on James’s hand relaxes but doesn’t disappear. James considers it promising that he only has to repeat the performance twice the rest of the night.

*****

Tony doesn’t let go of him again until he sees Pepper waiting on the tarmac. James isn’t sure if it’s because Tony doesn’t think he’s real, or if he doesn’t think any of this is real, or if it’s just some psychological kickback against having no control over what happened to him for so long, but James doesn’t object. It’s comforting to have some physical reminder that Tony’s really there.

The first sign of trouble is when Tony dismisses the EMTs with a scowl. “Are you kidding me with this?”

James signals them to move back and tries not to feel uneasy when Tony flirts a little with Pepper and climbs into the back of his car. He doesn’t get a chance to pass along the flash drive the doctors gave him, and his fingers curl around it in his pocket like a talisman. She’ll get him to the hospital, and he’ll meet them there. Things are going to be fine. Tony is going to be fine.

It’s just that he’s, well, _Tony_ , so they’re probably in for a bumpy ride.

The second sign of trouble is that instead of meeting them at the hospital, he’s meeting them at a goddamn press conference. James has felt more confident in mission outcomes with friendly fire raining down on him and communications cut off. The only silver lining is that it gives him a chance to hand off the drive and give Pepper a firm squeeze as they’re hunkering down on the floor waiting for Tony to snap out of it. She squeezes back, and the tight lines around her eyes tell him that she’s nervous, too.

When Tony starts rambling about his father, James thinks he might know what’s coming. He remembers when Howard and Maria Stark died. Tony and the old man got along about like an open flame and a pile of dynamite, but the sudden, violent shock of his loss had thrown Tony for a loop. And his mother...James thought it had been almost a year and a half before Tony had been able to say her name without breaking down sobbing. They might not have always been on speaking terms, but they’d loved each other fiercely and devotedly no matter what. Her death had damn near ripped his heart out, and the combined loss had almost sheared him off at the roots.

When Tony tells the crowd that he’s shutting down the weapons line, James realizes that he has absolutely no way of predicting anything that’s going to happen from here on out. He holds Pepper’s hand again, because he’s got a feeling that he’s going straight back to Afghanistan, and this is all going to be on her. She shakes it off, grabs him by the sleeve, and drags him close.

“Don’t you dare disappear on me,” she says, her voice pitched low. “Don’t you dare.”

“You need me, you call me,” James tells her, easing her fingers off the fabric. “Day or night.”

She lets go reluctantly, like she knows he can’t back that up. He’ll want to, sure, but if he gets orders, he gets orders. The press conference is rapidly devolving into a zoo, and he barely manages to corner Stane and tell him that they _need_ to get Tony to the hospital before Stane’s people are ushering Tony away from the press. Then James finds himself being loaded into the back of a very nice car with a very unhappy general who’s giving him a very severe look, and he composes himself and waits for a very unpleasant debriefing.


End file.
